A J Dalton

So season two of The Grand Tour (Jeremy Clarkson’s Amazon ‘vehicle’ – see what I did there?) started yesterday. The Guardian reviewer characterised the whole thing as sexist, puerile schoolboy stuff. Well, it is… but only sort of. The show is of course tongue-in-cheek, rooted in self-aware caricature (since the witty, plain silly and hilarious squabbling our three friends indulge in is all overtly staged in skits like ‘Conversation Street’), so in many ways it subverts its own macho stereotypes. Indeed, the way that the ‘race’ in Switzerland is set up is extremely satirical and insightful – Jeremy represents the (the ghost of Xmas) ‘past’ by driving a gas-guzzling Lambo, James May represents (the ghost of Xmas) ‘present’ by driving a hybrid Honda sportscar and Richard Hammond represents (the ghost of Xmas) future by driving an all-electric Croatian supercar called the Rimac. Jeremy is presented as a dinosaur throughout, especially when Hammond books them into a wellness hotel, with a menu of lettuce leaves, a no alcohol policy and colonic treatments! Poor Jeremy simply cannot cope with clean modern living. His misery when eating the salad and being lectured by Hammond is priceless – I was fully expecting the joke about Jeremy having punched someone for not serving him a steak (but it was probably edited out by the lawyers). Naturally enough, Jeremy then fights back with his humour, referring to Hammond’s car as the lady-shaver to wind him up (you can’t get away from the fact that Rimac sounds like Immac), for example, but that’s all part of the dinosaur character.

Not a second of it is stupid stuff, then. It’s well-written, intelligently-put-together and superbly performed. And it offers something more. It’s all carried off with verve, an engaging energy (despite their claims that they’re three ageing rockers), panache and elan. It is entirely refreshing (especially when compared to the woefully dull and worthy Top Gear of BBC2). So if you wanna rev up your Fridays, give The Grand Tour a spin!

The TV series Mindhunter is set in 1970s America when FBI investigations into criminal psychology are really first startin, when serial killers (including the Son of Sam) are first being identified as a ‘type’. We follow the character of Holden Ford (played superbly by Jonathan Groff) as he helps set up the FBI’s first Criminal Behaviour Unit and starts interviewing serial killers in prisons in order to identify, anticipate and track others that may be at large among the general population. Others in the Unit include the sceptical, grumpy and frankly hilarious Bill (Holt McCallany) and Wendy (Anna Torv, who also starred in Fringe). They are a great team, and all sorts of sparks fly.

What sets Mindhunter apart from regular crime series is that it refuses to end each episode with the satisfying capture of a killer or the solution to how and why a crime was committed. Instead, some cases are left unsolved (when the viewer can see how the FBI understanding still hasn’t developed enough) and some are revealed to be false starts (because the new ‘methodology’ incorrectly predicted or identified a pattern that was really just coincidence or entirely innocent). Yes, it is a frustrating watch at times, but at the same time it feels very ‘authentic’ because that’s probably how things actually were. The sense of realism is only increased by a faithful depiction of the 70s (fashion, music, drugs, prudery, sexual liberation, and so on) and by the use of real news footage from the time.

What we get, then, is a series that is properly character-driven rather than plot-driven. It’s a refreshing change. The watching experience is rich, constantly surprising, fascinating, disturbing and utterly compelling. Give it a chance. It scores 9 out of 10 from me. [Available on Netflix]

So the new Star Trek series has arrived on Netflix, with high-budget visuals, big-name cinema actors and a properly gothic and scary version of the Klingon empire. What’s not to like? Well, there’s a certain bleakness to proceedings that, while in tune with current global politics, betrays the optimism of the other series and surely the very spirit which saw humankind voyage to the stars in the first place. The refrain ‘We come in peace’ is not only mocked by the remorseless Klingons but also revealed by the plot of the first two episodes as being as childish as it is foolish.

[Vague spoilers] The main ‘dilemma’ of the opening two episodes is whether the Federation captain (ably played by Michelle Yeoh) should open fire first on the extremely menacing Klingons. Her commander (also well played by Sonequa Martin) – advised by her Vulcan mentor Sarek – insists that shooting first is the only language that Klingons understand. Sounds intriguing? It isn’t. There isn’t really a dilemma at all, you see. The captain is in no doubt that initiating the violence is simply ‘not what the Federation does’. The commander promptly attempts a mutiny, so adamant is she that the Vulcans are right. Hmm. No one actually wrestles with their conscience.

Throughout, then, the main (human) characters of the piece do not feel fully rounded. That means we also struggle to identify with or care about them. It’s all a bit meaningless and pointless, a feeling that is only increased when it turns out it doesn’t really matter what decision is ultimately made in an attempt to save the day, because it all goes belly-up anyway. It’s a very pessimistic view of things. An individual cannot make a difference in such circumstances, apparently. There are no heroes.

When individuals and moral integrity mean so little, what’s left? Only failure, desperation and suffering. It’s grimdark sci-fi basically. There are attempts at humour and banter to lighten matters, but when the characters are simply victims of their circumstances, such humour is only peevish, pathetic and ultimately empty.

Don’t get me wrong. The new series has important and relevant messages for the viewer. It could never be accused of being anachronistic. However, certain audiences may well feel that something valuable has been missed or lost. It’s definitely going to divide audiences, I think, much like Marmite. A matter of taste, then. Take a look and see what you think. For me, it’s an 8 out of 10 (jury still slightly out).

So the follow up to The Book of Orm and The Book of Angels (what do you mean you haven’t read them yet, you fool?) is The Book of Dragons! It’ll contain much belching flame, fang and claw, not to mention magical realism, urban fantasy, epic fantasy and ye olde metaphysical fantasy. Tales from myself and other leading dragon authors like Joanne Hall, C. N. Lesley, Michael Bowman and more.